


Thanks For Nothing

by illyrilex



Category: King of Fighters
Genre: Arguing, Dysfunctional Family, Dysfunctional Relationships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Drama, Gen, King's temper is truly a thing of wonder, Thanksgiving, Thanksgiving Dinner, rape mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 10:47:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16721868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illyrilex/pseuds/illyrilex
Summary: King is put to the test when she has to spend yet another Thanksgiving with her disapproving family.





	Thanks For Nothing

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I ended up writing a thing. Because it’s Thanksgiving time and why not. Some quick notes here for those who are new or in the back:
> 
> King’s “real” name is Cécile Levasseur. This is not canon (though I have legit been bothering SNK on the Twitters in an effort to make it so, haha), though “Céc” plays on the canon “Sis” that Jean always uses when addressing King.
> 
> After the events of Much Like Suffocating, King tells everyone she caught mono from Mai by sharing her straw. This is, of course, a massive lie, and I’m mentioning it now because reasons.
> 
> Oh, and Madeleine is pronounced MAHD-len because she’s hella French.
> 
> I’ll go into the rest after the story. Onward~

The dictionary definition of “Thanksgiving” said something about expressing gratitude -- especially to God. Cécile Levasseur, otherwise known as “King,” didn’t believe in God (she had her reasons), so an entire day dedicated to giving thanks to some all-knowing, benevolent entity by eating was… odd. In addition to that she had to spend the holiday in mostly shitty company: The only reason she even bothered to celebrate the occasion in the first place was for her little brother Jean’s sake. Everything else was just a sadistic exercise in keeping her oftentimes questionable temper in check.

As King sat in her car, she gripped the steering wheel and looked up at the house she was parked in front of. Right in the middle of suburbia, the place was modest in its appearance: the typical sand coloured paint job, a festive, harvest-themed wreath on the tall door. It didn’t look like the den of horrors King often thought of it as, which made it all the more jarring. She took a deep breath and leaned her head back against the seat: The large pie next to her probably needed to be refrigerated, but she kind of didn’t care. The bulk of it would probably end up in the trash anyway.

Just then, the text chime on her cell phone went off. She lifted the gadget from the cupholder to read the correspondence, which was from her brother:

“Are u here yet?”  
“Outside.”

Within moments the front door opened and Jean bounded over to the car. He peered through the window while making a face. King made one back as she rolled down the window.

“How long have you been out here?” Jean asked, his brow quirked.  
“Ten minutes,” King answered.  
“You do this every year...”  
“Well, they’re assholes every year.”

King rolled up the window and shut off the engine before climbing out of the vehicle and smoothing her clothes.

“Maybe this year will be different,” Jean said, his tone optimistic. “They’re both in good moods today.”  
“I have the ability to change that,” King muttered dryly. She leaned into the car to grab her phone and the dessert. “As soon as I walk in there it’s going to be --”  
“It’ll be _fine_.”  
“...Okay,” King exhaled as she brought herself up to her full height. “I’m ready.”  
“Just remember to stay calm, no matter _what_ they say. Caaaaalm.”

King was escorted into the house by her brother. The place was immaculate -- as always: Not a single speck of dust on any of the shelves; not a single framed photograph or knickknack out of place. It was all very quaint, yet it somehow came across as artificial. It was sickening. King handed Jean the pie so she could take off her jacket and hang it on the nearby coat rack.

“Cécile,” came a curt voice from the end of the short hall.

There stood King and Jean’s aunt, Madeleine (better known as Aunt Maddy), in all of her antagonistic glory, arms crossed, expression bothered.

“Hey Auntie,” King said with a smirk. Her aunt _hated_ it when she called her that.  
“How are you?” Aunt Maddy inquired, her eyes narrowed and her voice full of contempt.  
“...good.” A pause. “You?”  
“Good.”

Aunt Maddy turned to Jean; her expression instantly softened.

“What’s that you’re holding?”  
“I brought pie,” King stated. “From Cos --”  
“I was asking _Jean_ ,” came an abrupt reply.

King pressed her lips together in a thin line. This bitch.

“Céc brought pie,” Jean answered lightly. “Fridge, right, Céc?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Okay, come on,” Jean motioned for his sister to follow him.  
“Say hi to Gary,” Aunt Maddy called as the siblings made their way toward the kitchen.

King sighed. Her aunt’s husband, whom she had _never_ considered family, was slightly more amicable toward her, but not by a whole lot. Much like his wife, Gary deeply disapproved of pretty much everything King did, and feared that she would be a bad influence on Jean. He sat on the sofa in the open living room, reading a newspaper while football played on the flat screen television, his horn-rimmed glasses slightly crooked. He looked up when he heard King and Jean approaching.

“Look who it is. Cécile,” Gary gave a brusque nod.  
“Hi.”  
“How are you?”  
“Pretty good,” King answered as genially as possible. “And yourself?”  
“Not bad. How’s the restaurant?”  
“Bar,” Jean called from the kitchen.  
“Right,” Gary rolled his eyes. “ _Bar_.”  
“It’s great. Business was a little slow after Bor --”

King instantly stopped herself. If she said anything even remotely related to current events Gary would pounce on the opportunity to throw in his two cents, which usually included deeply offensive rhetoric -- especially if it came to the topic of mass shootings and guns. She hoped like hell that he didn’t catch what she was about to say, otherwise the conversation could take a turn very fast.

“Borderline, huh? They should have had an armed guard,” Gary said firmly.

King inwardly groaned: so much for him not catching it. Nevertheless, she knew she needed to keep quiet, to let the storm pass, but she responded without even thinking:

“Are you fucking nuts?!”  
“If they had more security I _guarantee_ that things would have turned out differently!”  
“I guarantee it wouldn’t have made a difference! There still would have been numerous casualties!”  
“You should arm yourself.”  
“Huh?”  
“If somebody comes in to your place… what? That Thai boxing stuff of yours is useless. What are you going to do? Kick them? You’d be on the ground -- bleeding out -- before you could even raise a leg.”

King could practically _feel_ her blood pressure rising. On one hand, Gary had a point: she had actually found herself staring down the barrel of a gun earlier in the year: It was fucking terrifying -- especially since she _hadn’t_ been fast enough to keep the thing from doing some damage. On the other hand, she knew Gary’s comment about her Muay Thai being “useless” was designed to get under her skin. She opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by Jean as he walked up beside her.

“Hey, Céc! I want to show you something! Come on!”

Grateful for the save, King excused herself before following her brother to his bedroom upstairs. As soon as they were both in the room Jean closed the door and leaned his back against it.

“Did that really just happen?!” King asked incredulously. “Did he really just suggest that I get a _gun_?!”  
Jean grimaced while he held his hands out in front of him.

“Calm. Remember?”  
“I know, but that -- ! I swear, if either of them get out of line...”  
“Just don’t flip the table or kick anyone in the face, okay?”

King snickered as she sat down on the unmade bed.

“I’ll behave,” she said coolly. She glanced over at Jean, who was staring at her very carefully. He crossed his arms, his expression doubtful.

“You don’t believe me.” King furrowed her brow.  
“Nope. Not really.”  
“Oh, come on! You’re not still thinking about twenty-sixteen, are you?”  
“You mean when you told Uncle Gary he was a fascist, called Aunt Maddy a miserable c-word, and killed a lawn chair on the way out? Of course not!”  
“The chair was an accident, but the rest was justified.”  
“Well yeah, but…”

Jean trailed off as he crossed the room. He picked up a PlayStation 4 controller and handed it to King.

“But what?” She asked carefully while she took the device.  
“But this year is different.”

Jean picked up his own controller; he turned on the television and the console before sitting down next to his sister.

“How so?”  
“Do I really have to…?”  
“Yes --” King hit the little PlayStation button on her controller -- “because I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about.”  
“Céc…”

Jean gave King a strange look that made her realize what he was trying to allude to. With a sigh she rested her head on top of his.

“They were awful before it happened, and they’re still awful now. What happened to me won’t change that.”  
“Do you think they’d be nicer to you if they knew?”  
“No,” King responded, her tone a little far off as she thought about the situation. If her aunt and uncle knew what occurred over the summer they would find a way to pin it on her. Her fighting, her profession, her sexuality -- all would be used to delegitimize the horror of what she had experienced months earlier. There would be no sympathy -- not that she wanted any -- because of her lifestyle. Surely, someone like her had it coming.

“I think Uncle Gary might know something is up, though.”  
“Why?” King made a face.  
“When you dropped me off last weekend he said you seemed a little off lately.”  
“A little slow on the uptake, isn’t he? It’s been months and I’m doing way better now.”  
“Well… you know how he is.”  
“Très attentif,” King rolled her eyes. She paused for a moment before focusing on the screen. “What are we playing?”  
“Marvel.”  
“But I’m _terrible_ at it.”  
“It’s okay,” Jean grinned. “I’ll let you win a couple of matches.”

 

###

 

Two wins and eight losses later, King and Jean both laughed as he relentlessly beat her characters and landed a Happy Birthday that clinched yet another victory for him.

“Wow, Céc,” Jean turned away from the screen. “You’re actually getting _worse_!”  
“Yeah? Well, come at me in a _real_ fight, and --”

King was cut off by a knock on the door. Before either her or Jean could answer, their aunt peered into the room.

“Is everything okay in here?”  
“It’s fine, Aunt Maddy,” Jean answered distractedly while he picked his team.  
“Everything’s copacetic,” King said as she turned to face the older woman. “Is there something you need?”  
“I’d like this door left open.” Aunt Maddy narrowed her eyes, her face full of distrust.  
“ _Damn_ ,” King said as she fixed her gaze directly on her aunt. “That’s it for our lesson on cunnilingus, kiddo! Such a pity -- we were _just_ getting to the good part!”  
“CÉC!”

Jean threw his hand over his mouth and tried to keep from laughing, but was unsuccessful. Meanwhile, Aunt Maddy glared daggers at her niece, her cheeks a deep crimson.

“I’d like to talk to you outside,” she growled. “ _Now_.”

King rolled her eyes: she placed her controller down and rose from her place on the bed. She probably should have known better than to antagonize her aunt in the first place, but she just couldn’t resist: if Madeleine and Gary were going to make her uncomfortable then she was gladly going to return the favour. She ruffled Jean’s neatly combed hair, walked out into the hallway, and crossed her arms as she leaned back against a wall. Her aunt stood directly across from her, one hand on her hip, the other tapping her thigh in agitation.

“Cécile, I will not tolerate you telling him about such lewd things.”  
“Oh, Auntie,” King sighed. “Do you really think I would talk to a twelve-year old about doing something like that?”  
“I don’t know _what_ you’d --”  
“I’d wait until he was at least twelve and a _half_.”  
“You _know_ Gary and I have been working our hardest to make sure that boy doesn’t turn out --”  
“Like me, right?” King interrupted. “Because that would be terrible!”  
“That’s not what --”  
“Save it, _Auntie_. Why don’t we just try to make this work, okay?”  
“And how do we do that?”  
“You and Gary leave me alone, and I’ll leave you alone,” King proposed. “Simple.”  
“What does that mean? Leave you alone?” Aunt Maddy was clearly annoyed.  
“It means stay off my back.”

Aunt Maddy fell silent for a moment. She appeared to be thinking very carefully.

“I can’t have you --”  
“Can’t have me what?”  
“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

King took a deep breath as she started toward Jean’s room. She supposed it was probably better not to know what sort of horrible train of thought her aunt was getting started on.

“Why are your shoes on?!” Aunt Maddy suddenly barked. “There are no shoes upstairs!”  
“Oh,” King responded, completely unfazed. “Sorry.”

She removed her boots and handed them to her aunt, who was standing by with her hand outstretched.

“I’ll leave these by the front door.”  
“Great. Are we done?”  
“Dinner will be ready soon,” Aunt Maddy grumbled as she walked away.

King exhaled as she watched her aunt saunter down the stairs. She often wondered what her parents would have thought about the fractured relationship between the two. Surely, they would be on their daughter’s side of things. ...Right? King pushed the thoughts from her mind as she re-entered Jean’s room. He had turned off his game and was browsing YouTube.

“Sorry about that,” King said as she reclined on the bed.  
“I can’t believe you said that,” Jean giggled. “Is cunnilingus what I _think_ it is?”  
“I don’t know if I should answer that.”  
“Eh, I can just look it up,” Jean reached for his tablet.  
“NO!” King bounded upright and quickly snatched the gadget out of her brother’s hand.  
“ _Hey_!?”  
“Don’t look that up unless Safe Search is on,” King told her brother. Suddenly, something occurred to her. She laughed to herself and set the device aside before speaking again.

“You know what? Just ask Maddy about it later. I suppose you could ask Gary, too, but he’ll probably have _no_ idea what you’re talking about.”  
“Why can’t _you_ just tell me?”  
“Because it’s funnier if you ask them.”  
“Céc.” Jean gave his sister a pointed look.  
“Okay, fine,” King conceded. “It’s --”  
“JEAN!”

Gary’s loud voice floated into the room from downstairs, effectively derailing what probably would have been an embarrassing conversation.

“YEAH!?” Jean answered back, just as loud.  
“COME DOWN AND HELP!”  
“Go on,” King said. “Don’t let me get you in trouble.”  
“Will you come down with me?”  
“Do you want me to?”  
“Yes! Come on!”

Jean grabbed King’s arm and pulled her up before dragging her out of the room. The pair made their way down the stairs, into the dining room, where Gary and Aunt Maddy were placing food on the table and carving the turkey, respectively. Without a word, Jean grabbed a stack of plates and started setting everyone’s place. Meanwhile, King stood awkwardly near the entryway, unsure of what she could possibly do with herself.

“Is there anything I can help with?” She asked cautiously. The answer would probably be a resounding “no”, but it was best to be polite.

“Go ahead and sit down,” King’s aunt told her.  
“Jean says you’re eating meat again,” Gary said while cutting in to the bird.  
“Oh, uh, yeah,” King mumbled as she lowered herself onto one of the stiff wooden chairs. “Kind of...”  
“Well, would you like a little turkey?”

King grimaced. There were so many ways she could answer the simple question, each one somehow more problematic than the next.

“Cécile,” Aunt Maddy snapped. “Your uncle asked you a question.”  
“I can hear,” King snapped back. She turned to address Gary. “I’ll try a _very_ small piece. Please.”  
“So much for that vegetarian streak,” he said as he placed two pieces of meat on King’s plate. “How long did that last you, anyway? A couple of months?”  
“Three years.”  
“Impressive,” Aunt Maddy acknowledged. “Too bad you couldn’t stick with it. But that’s to be expected.”  
“What’s _that_ supposed to --”  
“Hey, Céc,” Jean cut in as he sat down next to his sister. “Can you hand me the green beans?!”  
“Yeah,” King sighed as she reached for the vegetables. She handed the glass dish to Jean, who mouthed the word, “don’t.”

After a few minutes of very minimal small talk, all of the plates were piled with food (some more than others) and everyone was finally seated. For some reason, Aunt Maddy decided to sit down directly across from King, who shifted in her chair, uncomfortable, while she poked at the turkey on her plate with a clunky fork. She forced herself to take a bite; it was just as she remembered: dry. Not unlike chewing on a lightly seasoned paper towel.

“Why don’t we go around and say what we’re thankful for?”

Gary’s suggestion made King want to bang her head against the table. They did this every year -- before the fighting started. And every year, everyone’s answers were the same: family, good health, shelter. It was all such generic, feel-good bullshit.

“Great idea!” Aunt Maddy clapped her hands together. “Let’s start with Jean!”

Jean raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised; he usually went last. He looked at King, who raised her own eyebrows and shrugged.

“Okay,” Jean awkwardly started. “I’m thankful for… my family... and my friends... and my health… and… food and…”

Jean suddenly looked down, his face somewhere between thoughtful and melancholy.

“What’s the matter, Jean?” Aunt Mady asked gently.  
“Nothing,” he answered. “It’s just… I’m thankful that Céc is here.”

King’s eyes widened; his meaning wasn’t lost on her.

“Cécile joins us every Thanksgiving,” Gary pointed out.  
“Yeah, and I’m thankful that she could do it again this year,” Jean told him.  
“Thanks, kiddo,” King chimed in. “I’m… glad… I can still be here for you.”

Aunt Maddy flashed King a disingenuous smile.

“Well. It’s nice that you’re making an effort.”  
“‘What does _that_ mean?” King gripped her fork tightly.  
“Oh, well… You’ve been a little scarce.”  
“You mean a few _months_ ago? When I was --”  
“Céc was sick,” Jean reminded their aunt.

King glanced over at her brother: Seeing him lie for her was somehow touching, though it made her feel terrible. It sucked that he had to be dishonest for her sake.

“Mono, right?” Gary asked. “Isn’t that the kissing disease?”  
“You can get it from sharing straws,” King said tersely.  
“Is that slang for something?” Aunt Maddy squinted at King.  
“I literally shared a straw.”

A brief silence descended on the table before Gary turned to address King.

“So. What are _you_ thankful for, Cécile?”

King swallowed a bite of over-salted mashed potato and wiped the corners of her mouth. She smiled at her brother, who looked like he was bracing himself for something.

“I’m thankful for Jean. He’s… I don’t know what I’d do without him.”  
“Aww, Céc!” Jean relaxed; he playfully headbutted King’s shoulder.  
“Is there anything else?” Aunt Maddy inquired. “That you’re thankful for?”

King thought about it. There were her friends, of course… and the bar… and not having her brains blown out earlier in the year. She opened her mouth to answer but Aunt Maddy cut her off.

“You should learn to be more appreciative of the things you have, Cécile.”  
“I’m _very_ appreciative of the things I have. You have no idea.”  
“Hm. I suppose you’re right.”  
“I _know_ I’m right.”

At that moment King felt immense pressure on her foot; she glanced at Jean, who shook his head very subtly.

“What about you, Auntie?” King asked scathingly. “What are _you_ thankful for? Family? Career? Pinterest?”  
“I am thankful for those things, yes.”  
“Trop cool,” King murmured under her breath. “Fantastique.”  
“Il y a un problème, Cécile?”  
“Non, pas de problème.” King shrugged. She felt the pressure on her foot increase.

There was a lull in the conversation before Aunt Maddy spoke again.

“I’m very thankful for Gary and Jean,” she said. She grabbed her husband’s hand while she smiled at Jean.  
“But not me, right?” King blurted out.  
“I’m thankful Jean has you,” came Aunt Maddy’s reply.

King glared at her aunt, more hurt by that answer than she wanted to let on. She wasn’t surprised, but it still stung a little. She scrutinized her food, which was barely touched, and pressed her lips together.

“Hey, Céc,” Jean spoke up.  
“Hm?”  
“After dinner can you show me how to do a Trap Shot again?”  
“Oh,” King blinked a few times before turning to Jean. “Yeah, sure. It’s super ea --”  
“I don’t want you doing any of that nonsense here,” Aunt Maddy cut her off.  
“‘Nonsense?’” King asked. “That ‘nonsense’ is called Muay Thai, and if it hadn’t been for that I wouldn’t have been able to help with Jean’s medical bills, or --”  
“You weren’t _that_ helpful,” Gary responded. “It’s actually a little surprising, seeing as how you were working for one of the city’s biggest criminals at the time. I guess crime doesn’t pay, huh?”

King scowled. Gary _always_ brought up her time working under Mr. Big. Year after year, he had to make it a point to mention it because he was incapable of letting it go. He was probably going to somehow hold it over King’s head well after she was dead and gone.

“No,” King said, her voice surprisingly even. “I suppose it doesn’t.”  
“Céc did what she had to to take care of me,” Jean said. He reached for his sister’s hand and squeezed it. “And I appreciate it.”  
“Thanks, kiddo.”  
“I still don’t get how you pulled it off, though,” he added thoughtfully. “You know -- the whole man thing.”  
“Sports bras,” King replied. “Athletic tape. Having a girlfriend at the time didn’t hurt, either.”

Both Gary and Aunt Maddy shot King incredibly disapproving looks. Her aunt took a sip of wine, stone faced.

“Il y a un problème?” King asked innocently. She couldn’t help smiling as she bit into a dinner roll.  
“Cécile.” Aunt Maddy’s tone was dangerous.  
“Ouais?”  
“Think about what you say in front of your brother!”  
“It’s okay, Aunt Maddy,” Jean spoke up. “Céc can talk about that stuff in front of me -- I don’t care.”  
“But _we_ do,” Gary responded.  
“Whyyyyy?”  
“Yeah, Gary,” King tilted her head to the side. “Why?”  
“It’s not nor --”  
“ _Proper_ ,” Aunt Maddy spoke up, her eyes fixed on King.

King stared right back at her aunt as she forcefully stabbed a green bean. She felt Jean’s foot on top of hers again; not saying anything was going to be very difficult.

“Why isn’t it proper?” Jean asked as he looked from his aunt to his uncle.  
“Homosexuality isn’t natural.” Gary said with a scowl.  
“Céc is Céc --” Jean took a quick sip of his drink -- “regardless of whether she has a boyfriend _or_ a girlfriend.”  
“It’s fine, kiddo,” King stated calmly. “Some people are just too simple-minded to grasp that concept.”  
“What are you trying to say?!” Gary put his fork down, clearly angered.  
“I’m sorry, was I even talking to you?!” King snapped. She crumpled her napkin into a little ball and held it in her fist as she fought to keep herself calm.

“Cécile!” Aunt Maddy hissed. “You are a guest in our house! You will not disrespect --”  
“Oh, but you guys can disrespect me all you want, right?!”  
“Oh, shit,” Jean mumbled under his breath while he sunk down in his seat.  
“Nobody is disrespecting you, Cécile! ”  
_“Tu te fous de moi_?!” King shouted. She closed her fist around the napkin so tightly that her knuckles began to turn white. “The second we moved in with you guys it was nothing but a constant barrage of how or why I’m the worst! Don’t get me wrong -- I’m grateful for everything you’ve done, for myself as well as Jean, but that doesn’t mean you get to sit here and talk badly about me! _In front of him_ , no less!”  
“I don’t think you’re grateful at all,” Aunt Maddy retorted. “If you were you wouldn’t act the way you do around here!”  
“And how is it that I act?!”  
“Like an entitled little brat!”  
“‘Entitled?!’ To _what_?! Basic fucking _decency_?!” King slammed her hands on the table as she rose from her seat. She stared down at her aunt, fuming.  
“Cécile!” Gary yelled. “That language is unacceptable in front of your brother!”  
“Oh, va te faire foutre, Gary!” King spat.  
“Stop being so dramatic and sit down, Cécile!” Aunt Maddy barked.  
“Dramatique?! T’es vraiment une _salope_!”

Aunt Maddy didn’t say anything as she slammed her wine glass down. Meanwhile, King narrowed her eyes and took a deep breath, her temper dangerously close to reaching a boiling point. All at once she felt awful; she didn’t want Jean’s holiday to be marred by yet _another_ argument between her and the family. She hated the position he was in -- _hated_ it -- but she would be damned if she was just going to sit there and let their aunt and uncle treat her poorly.

“Do you see how your negative attitude affects your brother?” Aunt Maddy challenged. “That boy --”  
“Leave Jean out of this! Jean, please go to your room,” King said quickly.  
“Céc, I --”  
“No, your sister’s actually right,” Gary said. “Go to your room. We’ll call you for dessert.”

Jean looked at each of the adults at the table as he rose from his chair.

“Can _I_ at least say something?”  
“Sure kiddo, what’s --”  
“ _Room_ ,” Aunt Maddy sternly cut across King. Both siblings looked at her; King squinted, disbelieving, while Jean frowned. He took a deep breath and squeezed King’s arm.

“Calm,” he murmured before he walked away.

King waited until Jean disappeared up the stairs before turning back to her aunt, who was calmly sipping her wine.

“You're a fucking piece of work,” King exclaimed angrily. “You won’t even hear him out?!”  
“Jean doesn’t need to be involved in this,” Gary spoke up.  
“No -- he doesn’t! But if he has something to say you should at least let him say it!”  
“Your uncle will talk to him later.”  
“Yeah, and he’ll tell him all about how his big, queer sister ruined the day, right?! How he shouldn’t hang out with me so much because he’ll end up becoming some kind of drunk, violent deviant, right?!”  
“You know,” Aunt Maddy began as she shifted in her seat. “Your uncle and I took you in, and we gave you a home, but you spat on us with your… your constant brawling, and your… your perversion! And what did you do when your brother was in the hospital?! You dropped out of college so you could play dress-up, and got yourself arrested! And who bailed you out?! But, no, _you’re_ the victim, aren’t you Cécile?!”

“YES!” King shouted, her anger threatening to overwhelm her. “Do you even hear yourself?! ‘Constant brawling?’ ‘ _Perversion_?!’ So what if I fight?! I’m damn good at it! One of the best in the world, even! And so what if I drink?! I’m not an alcoholic and I own a successful business don’t I?! And who fucking cares if I kiss guys or girls?! I just made out with a _girl_ not too long ago -- and it was _awesome_! But, no -- you don't even see a person under all that, do you?! All you see are your own prejudices! You _never_ gave a damn about me because I didn’t fit into your stupid mold!  
“I know I’ve made mistakes, but holding them over my head and acting like I’m going to corrupt my brother is abhorrent! You two are a couple of homophobic, bigoted jerks and my parents are probably rolling around in their graves stabbing themselves in their faces because of how awful you two are on a daily basis! If it weren’t for Jean I would have gladly accepted being shot in the head just so I wouldn’t have to deal with you two anymore! I’d rather be raped a second time -- hell, a _third_! -- if it meant I wouldn’t have to put up with your shit anymore, you heartless ghouls!”

King took a breath, horrified. She really didn’t mean to say that last part.

“What’d you just say?” Gary looked genuinely aghast.  
“ _Raped_?” Aunt Maddy furrowed her brow.  
“I… Surprise,” King mumbled. She quickly looked away; she was so embarrassed, so full of anger and shame all over again -- especially now that she was in front of her family.  
“Why wouldn’t you tell us something like that?!” Gary exclaimed angrily.  
“Please, Gary,” Aunt Maddy raised a hand to keep him quiet. “She probably means she had a one-night stand she regrets.”  
“That’s… not…” King trailed off.  
“Young women like you say that stuff all the time to get out of taking responsibility for your actions! Whatever happened, you probably enjoyed it until you decided it was a bad idea.”

King balled her hands into fists as she involuntarily made a loud choking noise. She always knew her aunt would say something horrible if she knew about what happened, but actually hearing it was much worse than she ever imagined. She felt the beginnings of a stress headache setting in, as well as a familiar stinging in her eyes.

“I’m leaving…!”  
“Of course you are,” Aunt Maddy told her. “Are we supposed to feel sorry for you?”  
“Mads…” Gary said, his voice full of something King couldn’t place. She turned on her heel and began walking away.

“Thanks for the food,” she said. “And thanks for letting me hang out with Jean, but fuck you.”

King thought she heard Gary say something but she didn’t bother to look back. She quickly put on her shoes, grabbed her jacket, and ran out. She wouldn’t let them see her cry.

“Céc!”

Jean came darting outside, his eyes wide and full of dismay.

“I can’t stay here,” King told him as she wiped a single tear away. “I’m so sorry. I’ll call you later, okay?”  
“Céc, wait! You shouldn’t drive angry!”

King sighed; Jean was probably right. She lowered herself onto the concrete steps and buried her face in her hands.

“I hate them,” she lamented as she tried to keep from crying.  
“I know, Céc,” Jean sat down beside her and rested his head on her shoulder.  
“How much of that did you hear?” King asked miserably.  
“All of it.”

King uncovered her face; she stared straight ahead, at nothing in particular.

“I can’t believe it slipped out like that. Pathetic!”  
“Did you really mean it? That you would…?”  
“In that moment? Kind of. I don’t know. It just...”  
“Try not to worry about it, Céc. They’ll probably forget by the time the pie is gone.”  
“And since when have I ever been that lucky?”

Jean didn’t say anything. King blinked several times while bitter tears aggressively rolled down her cheeks.

“Now they know, and it’s just more shit for them to use against me.”  
“Uncle Gary sounded like he was shocked. Maybe even… what’s the word… ?”  
“I don’t know...”  
“Well, he sounded like he actually cared. I think he said something to Maddy before I came out here.”  
“Yeah. He probably told her he was proud of her for not buying into my ‘garbage’ or something.”  
“I can’t believe she said that,” Jean added. He removed his head from King’s shoulder and placed a hand on her back.

“I told you she would say something messed up…” King told her brother quietly.

Silence descended on the siblings, with the only sound being a periodic sniffle from King. She wiped her eyes, smearing her eyeliner everywhere.

“I should go,” she told her brother, her voice shaky. “I think I need to be alone for awhile.”  
“Are you gonna be okay?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Their opinions are stupid and don’t matter.”  
“I know,” King replied as she walked to her car. “Still hurts, though.”

Just as King opened the car door, Gary appeared on the porch.

“Jean, what are you doing out here?”  
“I’m talking to my sister,” Jean answered coldly. “You know, the one who loves me and takes care of me even though she fights and is a little gay? Who you treat less than human all the time?”  
“Jean,” King shook her head. “Don’t.”  
“No! Céc, I’m tired of them treating you that way! What Aunt Maddy said was messed. _up_! And Uncle Gary, well… you’re just as bad! That’s your niece over there!”

Gary was silent for a moment. He looked from King to Jean.

“Go inside.”

Jean glared at his uncle before turning to King.

“Bye, Céc.”  
“... bye. Be good.”

Jean took a longing look at his sister before going inside. Gary seemed like he wanted to say something, but King was not going to let him have the satisfaction of having the last word.

“I had it coming, right?” She demanded. Her voice, while still shaky, was full of venom.  
“Cécile,” Gary started, but he was interrupted.  
“I don’t want to hear about how I deserved it, nor do I want your sympathy if that’s what you’re somehow here for, so go inside, give your wife a high-five for her sick burn, and leave me the hell alone! And leave Jean alone, too -- he didn’t do anything wrong! That is, unless _not_ being a garbage person is wrong now. Either way, get. _fucked_!”

With that, King climbed into her car. She turned it on and sped out of there as fast as she legally could, leaving her uncle slack jawed on the porch.

 

###

 

Much to her own disappointment, King cried the entire way home. As soon as she stepped into her apartment she made a beeline for the fridge: She pulled out a half-full bottle of wine and began drinking it in large gulps. She hated her aunt and uncle, but she hated herself more for letting them get to her, and for accidentally telling them her secret. She placed the now empty bottle down, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and went to change her clothes.

King replayed the evening in her mind and wondered what her parents would say if they knew how terrible Madeleine and Gary were. With a huge sigh she plopped on to her bed: her cat immediately jumped up next to her. He sniffed at her face, purring, before headbutting her.

“At least _you_ love me, Marron” King breathed quietly while she began petting him. “ _You_ don’t think I’m trash.”

At that moment the text chime on King’s phone sounded. She sat up and plucked the gadget from the bedside table: The message was from her friend, Yuri, who also had a tendency to get wrapped up in family drama every Thanksgiving.

“How’d it go?”  
“Everything sucks.”

King couldn’t help noticing that her typing was a little jumbled. Maybe she should have gone easy on the wine.

“Samesies. Are you home? Want company?”  
“Sure.”  
“Be there in a few.”

King plugged the phone into its charger and left the bedroom. She checked her reflection in the bathroom mirror (there was still makeup smudged on her cheeks) and cleaned up appropriately. The doorbell sounded just as she finished up. She walked over to the door, very slightly unsteady, and pulled it open: Yuri stood directly on the welcome mat, a plate of fresh cut fruit in her hands.

“I figured you could use something _good_ to eat,” she said with a smile.  
“Thanks…”

King stepped aside so Yuri could come in. She watched her friend as she placed the fruit on the dining room table.

“I brought something else,” Yuri said as she reached into her jacket pocket. She produced a small bag of iced animal cookies.  
“Are those…?”  
“I have a feeling you kinda need them right now.”  
“I just chugged half a bottle of wine,” King frowned as she took the pot cookies from Yuri.  
“Just have one. It’s fifty milligrams. You’ll feel better in no time!”  
“You’re such a little stoner! I’m beginning to wonder if you _really_ need this stuff.”  
“Dad and Ryo triggered a migraine, the jerks.”  
“You tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine?” King asked while she opened the cookies. She took one out and hesitantly ate it.  
“Totally,” Yuri replied. “You’re gonna love this. You came up.”  
“Me? Why?”  
“Take a guess.”  
“This stuff with Ryo is getting ridiculous!” King exclaimed in frustration. “I am not going to fuck him and have little Kyokugen babies, okay?! You can tell your dad I said that -- I don’t give a shit.”

Yuri laughed. “Are you suuuuuuuure?”  
“Shut up,” King snapped. “The last thing I need is _you_ jumping on this bandwagon, too. Especially today!”  
“Okay, okay. So, like, are you sure you don’t wanna go first? You’re gonna get all silly.”  
“Tell me about your day before this hits me so I can actually listen to you.”

The duo made their way to the sofa, where Yuri relayed a stressful tale that centered around her father, brother, and even her boyfriend ganging up on her for being too carefree when it came to the family legacy and how she lived her life in general. It sounded absolutely horrible, and King felt sorry for her, but also incredibly angry at the Kyokugen crew. She was going to have some words with all of them the next time she saw them.

By the time Yuri was done, King was feeling the effects of the pot cookie on top of the wine. She laughed while she told her friend all about her time with her aunt and uncle: Even the truly terrible parts were broken up by fits of mad giggling. When she was done she threw herself back against the sofa and ran a hand through her hair. She stopped laughing and glanced at Yuri, whose big eyes were brimming with tears.

“Oh, King-san,” was all she said.  
“What? I’m fine. I’ll be fine!”  
“I know, but…”  
“Fuck them!” King proclaimed, oddly happy. “And fuck Ryo and Robert and your dad, too! They _all_ suck!”  
“Yeah,” Yuri chimed in after a moment, a little uncertain, but still smiling. “Eff them!”

Both women laughed for a good minute before either was really able to speak again.

“Are you even high?” King asked suddenly.  
“Nope! I’m just laughing because you’re hilarious when you’re like this!”  
“Just wait! I’ll crash and be sad again in no time! It’ll be great!”  
“Well, I’ll be here for you when you do,” Yuri affirmed. “I won’t go anywhere until I know you’re okay.”  
“Awww, you’re sweet,” King grinned. “I’m so thankful for you!”  
“ _I’m_ thankful for _you_ ,” Yuri responded. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, King-san!”  
“I don’t know, either!”

King grabbed a throw pillow and held on to it. Everything was way too heavy and far off; she probably shouldn’t have eaten the damn cookie, but it was too late now. She squeezed her eyes shut.

“Do you think our families will ever get off our backs? ...Probably not, huh?”  
“ _Definitely_ not,” Yuri replied. “But at least you don’t have to see yours all the time.”  
“Yeah, but at least yours actually cares about you.”  
“Maybe you can be an honorary member of ours,” Yuri suggested. “The big sister I never had!”

King didn’t know why, but there was something about that that was absolutely hysterical. She giggled until her sides hurt, her troubles with her own family quickly becoming nothing more than an unpleasant afterthought -- for the moment, anyway. She knew that, once she was sober, her depression over the issue was going to come screaming back in full force, but, for the time being, she would enthusiastically embrace the undeniably strange and irrational feeling that she was going to fall straight through the sofa.

“Oh, Yuri,” King said with a lazy smile. “Thank you for this. I feel like my brain is melting, but thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Are you still with me? Neato. Here’s the rest because there is a lot to unpack:
> 
> * The pie: King was going to say that it was from Costco, which is an American retail chain of warehouse stores that is absolutely horrendous to navigate on a good day, but even worse when Thanksgiving rolls around.
> 
> * Borderline refers to a mass shooting in the town of Thousand Oaks, CA, where a bar (called Borderline) was shot up by some asshole with an AR-15. ‘MERICA. On the subject of guns, remember that in MLS, the gunman strikes King with the weapon, which cuts open her forehead.
> 
> * Jean telling King not to flip the table is a subtle nod to the AOF and Anti-Kyokugen Team endings in KOF XI, where she gets so pissed off that she flips a table at a restaurant
> 
> * Très attentif = very attentive
> 
> * Jean and King are playing Ultimate Marvel vs. Capcom 3. A “Happy Birthday” is a fighting game term that refers to when you land a hit on two of your opponent’s characters simultaneously. 
> 
> * I imagine that Jean would probably use the Justin Wong team of Wolverine, Storm, and Akuma. This has no bearing on anything -- just thought I’d throw that in. (King, meanwhile, would probably pick Phoenix because she’s cool, but wouldn’t have her as the anchor, resulting in a whole lot of fuckery.)
> 
> * King is canonically a vegetarian, but breaks her streak in Oxygen to Breathe out of frustration. The streak is in serious limbo.
> 
> * When Jean says that he’s thankful that King is there, he’s referring to the fact that she promised him she would never hurt herself (this conversation can be read in Pinky Swear). End shameless plug.
> 
> * Trop cool = so cool; fantastique = fantastic  
> * Il y a un problème = is there a problem; “Non, pas de problème” = no, there’s no problem
> 
> * King’s time under Mr. Big: Time for some headcanon shit you guys: King was being blackmailed by a certain someone who defeated her prior to the events of AOF, which significantly reduced the amount of money she made working for Big. Also, if you have hella boobs, you are totally going to use sports bras and athletic tape to hide them. Idk who at SNK was on what bullshit when they decided that King was only wearing a pink bra under that shirt. Like, nah, son. Get it together.
> 
> * Ouais = yeah (pronounced “way”)
> 
> * King = bisexual as fuuuuuuck (but if you’ve been going here long enough you already knew that)
> 
> * Tu te fous de moi = are you kidding me
> 
> * Va te faire foutre = fuck you/ go fuck yourself; Dramatique = dramatic; T’es vraiment une salope = You’re such a bitch
> 
> * On King getting arrested: She was an accessory to numerous crimes, including kidnapping. After she helped Yuri she turned herself in (and met a rookie cop by the name of Mary…) and spent a night in jail.
> 
> * When King says she made out with a girl she is directly talking about the events of Closed, if you haven’t read it…
> 
> * When King tells Jean that she “told him” Aunt Maddy would say something messed up she’s referring to the conversation they had in Pinky Swear
> 
> * Yuri totally has all kinds of edibles because she’s in college but, also, migraines
> 
> Yay! We got through it! A quick word about the earlier comment about bothering SNK on Twitter. If they can hold a contest to have an entire character created by a fan, then, perhaps, they can listen to a lowly author about a name. Do you agree? Come pester them with me and use the hashtag LetLexNameKing2K18 if you’re up for it! But be nice!
> 
> Sorry if I bummed anyone out with this one. Let me know your thoughts and feels in that big, open window below! See you next time -- I hope! (And I promise the next one won’t be so angsty!)


End file.
